


Sick

by Stahvie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Illnesses, its just a cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14968922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stahvie/pseuds/Stahvie
Summary: Got a req asking for fluff for my favourite Star Wars guy.You've come down with the cold. Hux is too busy to get sick but also wants to make sure you're alright.





	Sick

“This is it, Armie… this is how I die…” You groaned.

Rugged up and leaky, you moaned for the redhead to put you out of your misery. It was just a cold but you had a flair for the dramatic.

“You’ll be fine within the week [Y/N], try and get some sleep.” Hux spoke from behind a mask.

The General couldn’t afford to get sick, things tended to go to hell when he was missing. You knew this all too well and had tried to convince him to not visit you until you were no longer contagious, but he wouldn’t listen. You felt like crap and didn’t want to feel worse when he inevitably got sick too, having little confidence in the mask.

He seemed completely unaware that the straps of the mask pushed his hair out of place, and in your delirious state, it brought you a lot more joy than it should have. You stared at the slightly messed ginger hair, chuckling goofily while he was across the other side of the room gathering a few things. When he returned to your side he helped you sit up.

“You can take more of these in four hours if you need them,” Hux said handing you some painkillers and a glass of water to wash them down. Once you’d downed the pills, he handed you a tiny cup full of viscous liquid. “And more cough medicine in 6 hours.”

It was sickly sweet and tasted nothing like the strawberries and vanilla it claimed to be. You shuddered as it hit your tongue. Behind the mask you could tell from Hux’s eyes that he was hiding a smile. His hand reached out to brush your hair away from your forehead but that was a mistake. You’d tried to protest knowing full well that you must have felt wet and clammy but that was something Hux learnt for himself.

You couldn’t help but laugh as his hand recoiled in disgust. Laughing led to wheezing, wheezing led to coughing, and the coughing highlighted your pained muscles.

“Relax, [Y/N], you need your rest. I’ll be back in a few hours.” The General hushed, gently stroked where your belly hid under the blankets, and left to make sure the ship hadn’t somehow caught fire without him overseeing things.

Later that night you were both sitting on the couch in your quarters on your datapads when you heard it. Hux cleared his throat.

“What was that?!” You demanded.

“Nothing, love, just clearing a tickle in my throat.” He replied from the assumed safety of his mask.

“That’s how it starts!” You shuffled your way across the couch still swaddled by the blanket you’d stolen from your bed.

He denied it, but you knew you weren’t mistaken.

When Hux didn’t show up to your quarters a few days later you assumed he must have caught the illness.

Donning your blanket as a cape, you removed yourself from the quarantine of your quarters and made the journey to his.

“You didn’t walk here like that did you?” Hux asked referring to your pyjamas and the blanket cloak. He looked a mess. Refusing to let the illness win, he’d dressed himself in his uniform but his hair was dishevelled and his nose was pink and irritated.

“What are you doing, Armie? You’re sick. Sick means comfy clothes and moaning until you’re magically better.” You gently scolded the ginger and retrieved his pyjamas for him.

You wedged him into a comfy corner on his couch and cocooned him in the blankets from his bed. You were still sick but it was your turn to be the doctor. Hux had been prepared though, he’d already started taking the cough medicine and was adamant that he didn’t need painkillers, more out of stubbornness than anything.

You clambered onto the mound of blankets that covered the General, declared it to be known as Mount Hux, and assaulted the man’s face with tiny smooches. He tried to protest but there was no getting rid of you, you were already sick and you missed kissing him. Not that he’d admit it, but you could tell he secretly loved it.

Climbing down from Mount Hux, you excused yourself and busied yourself in the kitchen. His cupboards housed many different types of tea. Tucked away in the back you found one made from a root that you couldn’t pronounce but it was supposed to be good for sore throats… even if it did taste like arse. A drizzle of honey might help that.

Back in Hux’s living room, you found him on his datapad. You removed it from his hands telling him he was banned from work and replaced it with the mug of hot arse-root water and honey.

“I can’t ignore my responsibilities, [Y/N]. I may be a little under the weather but I’m still the General.” Hux objected but took the tea nonetheless.

“Shut up and drink… as much of it as you can… even though it tastes as bad as you look.” You teased. “I’ll redirect your tasks to my datapad. If there’s anything that I can’t handle, I promise I’ll leave it, but you need to concentrate on getting better.”

“No, my sweet, you’re still sick. I can’t ask you to do that.” Hux took a swig of the tea and cringed at the taste.

“I’m pretty much better anyway, just a bit of a cough still… and a little sniffly.” You lied. You still felt like hell but making sure Hux was comfortable was your priority now. “You don’t need to stress yourself out with work, just focus on getting better.”

You grabbed your blanket, snuggled in next to Mount Hux, and started going through the work that had begun piling up on Hux’s datapad.

“I’m too good to you, Hux.” You joked.

Hux moaned, closing his eyes hoping to sleep though the sickness. You tilted your head up to look at him giving him a smile he’d never see.

“I know.”


End file.
